


Try Try Again

by tanyart



Series: If At First [2]
Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-13
Updated: 2011-02-13
Packaged: 2017-10-19 02:29:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/195843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tanyart/pseuds/tanyart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p><a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/195835">First Part</a></p>
    </blockquote>





	Try Try Again

**Author's Note:**

> [First Part](http://archiveofourown.org/works/195835)

There eventually came a time when Malik could look at him and not feel anything but trust and loyalty. It was all too easy to admire Altair for his leadership, his thoughtful decisions, and his devotion for seeking out knowledge, so it was simple, then, when Malik could include love among the things he felt, and maybe a constant sense of exasperation, but that had always been there for years.

The fleeting memory of that quiet night with the moonlight and shadows did not come to him right away—and why should it, when it was not that sole moment that defined their friendship. But it had come, unexpected, the morning Altair dropped from the upper ledge and onto Malik’s open window, the sun casting a hazy glow full of dust behind him, nothing like the shadows of latticework and leaves.

It had been an accident; he had heard Altair’s footsteps from the ceiling, the startled gasp, and had seen the pair of feet dancing for purchase on the sill—and then Altair peeked in, his expression unreadable. 

“Good morning,” he said, but did not make a move to enter or continue climbing down. If it had been any other day, Malik would have laughed at his clumsiness, but Altair’s mouth had pressed into a determined line, just like that night, and he looked at Malik as if recognizing a familiar expression, a cue or a signal.

And Malik knew, deep down, that Altair was still waiting, perhaps a little foolishly, but waiting just the same.

When he finally allowed Altair to climb through the window and cross the room, he didn’t feel the desperation and eagerness of a man who had waited for years for this very moment, but of a man who had imagined it for so long, he had considered every gesture, every possibility, right down to the smallest motions—that if Malik tilted his head to the left, Altair would bare his teeth along his jaw, or if he pulled away for more air, Altair kept busy by pressing kisses on his neck. Even his hands moved with the fluidity of a charted course, mapping out the seams of Malik’s robes, pulling ties and carefully letting the fabric wind between his fingers. There was not a second wasted, but yet he kissed Malik as if he had all the time in the world.

Malik wasn’t sure how he kept up, snatching off what he could of Altair’s clothes, and would later wonder if he could ever make up for all the time Altair had spent staring after at him, unbothered and patient. But for now, he responded to Altair gladly and willingly, lining his body so that he heard Altair stifle a groan from his throat and felt the growing hardness pressed against his thigh.

“How long,” Malik said, gasping as Altair hooked a leg around his hip, fingers pulling at his hair. It was almost maddening how the other man seemed to know exactly what to do, how to make Malik moan or pant the tiniest bit more than he ought to. He growled, trying to wander from whatever fantasies Altair had imagined, and pushed him into the sleeping pallet. “How long,” he tried again, settling on top of Altair, “have you thought of this? Thought of taking me?”

Altair tipped his head back, falling against the cushions. His pupils were wide and dark, but still seeing, still conscious, and he replied, smirking, “Far too long, honestly.”

Malik returned the smirk, leaning forward to lick the shell of Altair’s ear and asked, “And if _I_  were to take you?”

“I thought of that too,” Altair said with what could have been smug arrogance, but his voice had cracked, gone breathy and soft, and Malik felt the shift of his legs below him, spreading a little wider as if in invitation. During that whole time, Altair’s eyes did not leave his face, watching as Malik licked his lips to ease the sudden dryness of his mouth.

He grinned, unable to help himself, and lowered again to kiss Altair, languid and wet enough to satisfy and send them both moaning before he sat up, casting his gaze around the room.

“What? What is it? What’s wrong?” Altair asked, sounding a little dazed, as if he couldn’t comprehend why they had stopped. His mouth was red all over, shining and slick, with a small line of pale impressions where Malik’s teeth had left their mark, perpendicular to his scar. He hitched his hips, nearly overbalancing Malik so that he was forced to grab onto Altair’s arm for support.

“You spend years waiting, planning,” Malik growled, falling forward, and braced himself against the floor while Altair looked up at him with a grin. “And you did not think to bring or carry oils?”

Altair's grin disappeared. He opened his mouth, closed it, frowned, and said, “Er.”

Malik bumped their heads together, watching with damning fondness as Altair scrunched up his eyes and nose. 

“Out of all the days I forget to carry oils for questionable purposes,” Altair said flatly.

Malik snorted and started to stand. “I may have something nearby—“ and stopped when at the tightening grip on his arm.

“No,” Altair said, a hint of impatience creeping into his voice for the first time. “Don’t get up. We don’t need—we’ll do something else.” He appeared a little wild, unchecked, and Malik was abruptly reminded that this, here, was still their first time together, and he could not even begin to guess how he could have forgotten.

“All right,” he murmured, and let Altair pull him back down.

Yet for all his unwillingness to be interrupted, Altair kept his leisurely pace, taking the time to explore Malik’s body and allow Malik to do the same to him. It became almost unbearable, all the careful touching and curious movements, and soon every little thing made their breaths stutter or body twitch with need. Malik ran his hand down Altair’s neck and shoulder, once, and the other man had keened softly just from that alone.

They spoke to each other, though Malik couldn’t remember what about. Teasing words, most likely, and questions and breathless replies that were usually _yes_  and  _more_. At a word, Altair sat up, urging Malik to lie down, for he hadn’t noticed that his legs were growing shaky from his spot above Altair. 

“Let me,” he said, quiet and pleading, and Malik nodded.

Altair smiled, bright, and took their hard lengths in a gentle grip. Malik was shocked at the amount of pleasure that shot through his body, how inattentive he and Altair had been to that particular detail when it didn’t seem to matter a minute ago. He moaned, clutching at the back of Altair’s head. Likewise, Altair seemed to be unprepared, his body shuddering, and his grip tightened impulsively, making him exhaled sharply into Malik’s mouth. He stroked them, palm wet and slick, until his trembling hand fell away, unable to focus on its task, in favor of wrapping around Malik’s shoulders to bring them closer as their bodies rocked against each other.

“Please,  _please_ ,” Altair gasped, eyes screwed shut, though Malik did not know what Altair was asking for. He could only answer back in vague promises and assurances, all too caught up in the heat and burning desire to keep going, grinding and bucking up against the body above.

“Yes,” he groaned, babbling just as much as Altair. “I will. You can. I promise. Yes.”

Altair looked at him, a fleeting glimpse of awareness, and whimpered, low and soft, before he buried his face into Malik’s neck, his come hot and sticky between them. Malik shuddered, losing himself in his orgasm and Altair’s whispered words in his ear.

“So glad, Malik,” he was saying, dreamy and vacant. “Waiting, waiting, so glad I waited—”

With a quiet sigh, Malik rolled Altair to the side where they could both recline on the cushions. He smiled, still a little in awe by it.  _All this time._

“I’m glad, too,” he said, and didn’t have to wonder how long he would have to wait before Altair tried again.


End file.
